Parallels
by Dana Keylits
Summary: Inspired by the events in 7X06, but does not take place then. Setting is about two episodes earlier. Castle finds himself coping with the realities of alternate realities. Please note: some alternate universes may include character deaths (that have already happened). Disclaimer: Not my characters or settings, they belong to AWM & Co. Castle Winter Hiatus 2014 Ficathon Entry.
1. Chapter 1

**Parallels  
><strong>By Dana Keylits

**Chapter One: Something Is Drastically Wrong Here**

**H**e noticed it right away, that something was off, not quite _right_, like something had shifted ever so slightly overnight but was so fractional that it wasn't immediately identifiable.

That is until he pulled back the covers and saw that he wasn't wearing the same pajamas he'd put on the night before. He'd gone to bed wearing a white T-shirt and those blue pajamas all covered in red hearts that Kate had given him as a gag gift on Valentine's Day last year. Except that they were really comfy, so he'd worn them all the time, taking the 'gag' out of the gift. Which Kate had found particularly amusing, so she'd kidded him about it every time he wore them.

This morning, he'd awoken wearing a _blue_ t-shirt and a pair of grey boxers. But, Kate's teasing about the red hearts last night had been relentless, so he _knew_ he'd worn the other PJs. He was certain of it.

He swung his legs out of bed and stumbled over to the bureau. Maybe he'd gotten hot and changed clothes in the middle of the night? He opened the bottom drawer where his pajama bottoms were kept and, folded neatly, not a wrinkle or crease in them, were the blue and red hearted pajamas. He pulled them out and held them to his face, taking a deep sniff.

They had been freshly laundered.

He shook his head, dropped the pajamas back in the drawer and kicked it closed. He grabbed his navy blue robe from the chair and shrugged into it, tying the sash as he padded out of the room. He followed the delicious scent of freshly brewed coffee, and as he rounded the corner from his office into the living room, he expected to find Kate standing in the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee cradled in both hands and the mornings paper spread out on the counter in front of her.

But instead, he found his mother, dressed and ready for whatever shenanigans she had going on for the day. He frowned. Where the hell was Kate? He was about to go back into the bedroom to see if she was already in the shower, when his mother turned around and saw him.

"Oh, Richard darling, I'm glad you're up."

"Good morning, mother," he greeted, kissing her lightly on the cheek as he strolled to the coffee maker. He glanced backwards, noticing her hair was shorter, "Did you do something different with your hair?"

She reached up absently and palmed the bottom of her well-coifed hair, giving it a couple of bounces before replying, "No, darling, same old hairstyle. Why, do you think I should change it?"

"No, no," he replied, inhaling deeply as he poured the rich coffee into a mug. "...it just looks a little different than yesterday, that's all." He took a sip and let the coffee's magical healing powers cascade like molasses through his insides. He pulled down another mug for Kate and set it on the counter. "Have you seen Beckett yet this morning?"

She frowned, eying him suspiciously. "No darling, why would I have seen Detective Beckett?" She glanced at her watch, and then held out her palm. "And, I need a credit card to buy that dress for Alexis today."

His eyebrows furrowed and he glanced at her over the top of his mug. "What do you mean _why_ would you have seen Beckett? And, _what_ dress?"

"Oh, Richard," she huffed. "Honestly, for a man who claims to be so detail oriented, you are not the least bit observant with your own _daughter_." She waved her hand in the air as though swatting a fly. "The dress is for the dance, you know, the fall fling she's going to with Ashley? She's only been talking about it all _week_." Martha grabbed her purse from the counter and opened it, pulling out a tube of bright red lipstick.

He choked on his coffee, speckling the front of his t-shirt with dark stains as he did a spit take. "Ashley? Mother, what are you talking about?" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Ashley's in California. Alexis hasn't seen him in like," he glanced at the ceiling as he did the math, counting on his fingers, "...three years."

"Have you gone and hit your head or something?" Martha asked, reaching over and tapping her knuckles gently against his forehead. "Ashley came back a month ago."

He thought for a minute. _Had_ Alexis told him about Ashley? He mulled over the events of the last week. He and Kate were finally finding their rhythm after the whole missing-their-Hamptons-wedding-because-he'd-been-kidnapped-and-gone-missing-for-two-months debacle. Alexis was starting her Junior year in college and was still living at home after kicking Pi to the curb, and mother was, well, still _mother_. No, he hadn't heard anything about this. Not a single word. "Mother, no one told me that Ashley was back in the picture, and I definitely didn't know about Alexis needing a dress."

"Darling, I stood in your office and told you this _last night_."

"You did?"

"Yes," Martha replied, capping her lipstick and tossing it back in her bag. "I did."

He bit on the end of his thumbnail until it occurred to him. He glanced back up at his mother, one eyebrow arched, and asked, "Was I writing at the time?"

* * *

><p><strong>H<strong>e sauntered into the bullpen, a cup of coffee in each hand, and scanned the room looking for Kate. He spied her in the break-room, and after dumping his coat on the side chair at her desk, joined her there. "Hi," he greeted, handing her the coffee and kissing her on the cheek. "You slipped out awfully early this morning."

"_Castle_," she spat, quickly creating distance between the two of them. She looked around guiltily. "What are you _doing_?"

He paused, staring at her slack jawed. What was the problem? It wasn't like he'd felt her up or something. "What?"

"What if someone _saw_ that?"

He glanced around, no one was even looking in their direction. "Kate, what's the big deal? Who cares if anyone sees us?"

"Do you _want_ me to get fired?" She asked, frowning at him, one hand firmly planted on her hip.

"Fired? You're not going to get fired just because I kissed you on the cheek. I know Captain Gates told us to act professionally while at work, but I hardly think..."

"Castle, what are you _talking_ about? Captain Gates doesn't even know about us, and," she gripped him tightly at the elbow and dragged him to the far corner of the room, lowering her voice, "...neither does anyone else."

"Ouch," he complained, rubbing his arm. What the hell was going on? First the pajamas, then Ashley, Mothers hair, Kate being gone this morning, and now _this_? Had he fallen through some weird rip in the fabric of space and time? Had he, as his mother had suggested, hit his head on something? "Kate, we told the boys two years ago, and Captain Gates found out after you stepped on that bomb."

She stared at him blankly. _Holy_ _crap_, she didn't remember _any_ of this. He reached out to touch her forehead, maybe she had a fever, and she swatted him away, looking around the room again in case someone had noticed them. "Castle, what is going on with you? If you're pulling some weird prank on me, it's not funny."

"Kate, I swear. I'm not, You and I are engaged, and Capt..."

She stepped back, shaking her head, "We're _what?"_

She really had no clue. None. And, judging by the look on her face, appeared horrified at the prospect of marriage. He would try to not take that personally. His pulse started to race, and he could feel the sweat beading on his forehead as the gravity of his situation hit him.

Holy shit, he _had_ stepped into another universe.

A _parallel_ universe in which Alexis was dating Ashley and he and Kate were still _secret_ lovers.

"Kate, I think." Now it was his turn to glance nervously around the room. He lowered his voice. "I think I've stepped through a time/space portal or something. Because you're not making _any_ sense."

She thumbed at herself with disbelief, her eyebrows hiked. "_I'm_ not making any sense?"

He stepped closer, unnerved and a little hurt when she took a step backwards. "Kate. I'm serious. Something is drastically wrong here."

She looked up at him, concern coloring her eyes, and bit her bottom lip. At least _this_ Kate still had that adorable habit. She finally nodded. "Okay, wait here. I need to finish a couple of things, and then we can slip out and go to my place to talk," she suggested, already backing away, "...or we can call Lanie and have her examine your head for lumps, or a brain tumor, or something."

She hurried out of the room.

Just as he was watching her disappear through the door, a sudden wave of nausea came over him, and he closed his eyes, clutching his stomach. Once it had passed, he finally stood up, and immediately noticed that his clothes felt different. He looked down.

He was wearing different clothes. Dressy clothes, a suit and tie that he did _not_ recognize.

"Hello, Castle," he heard a familiar voice greet, and, realizing immediately who it was, plopped back down in his chair, his mouth wide open, his heart thundering madly in his chest.

Captain Roy Montgomery sauntered over to the Espresso machine that Castle had purchased for the precinct, and plucked a ceramic mug from atop the shelf. He turned back to Castle, "What's wrong, Castle? You look like you've seen a ghost."

**A/N: **_Thanks for reading. I know this is going to get confusing, but bear with me. I'll lead y'all out of this maze in due time. :-) _


	2. Chapter 2

**Parallels  
><strong>By Dana Keylits

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Please make sure you've read the summary so that you aren't caught off guard by events in this chapter._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two: Who Is The Ghost?<strong>

**I**t took him a minute to find his voice, to struggle past the lump in his throat, to suspend his disbelief that Captain Roy Montgomery was alive and well, and at this very minute enjoying an Espresso that left a foamy white veneer over his otherwise obsidian mustache. How was this even _possible_? He had to be dreaming, or hallucinating, or _something_, because in spite of his whimsical ability to believe in the magical, Castle knew that _this_ was not possible.

Collecting his breath, and his wits - whatever was _left_ of them, he stood up and greeted the Captain, "Good morning, Cap'n, how are you?"

"Oh, Castle, I am doing mighty fine to_-day_."

Castle raised an eyebrow, "Yeah? And why's that?"

Montgomery cocked his head, a crooked smile on his face. "You forget, Rick? It's retirement day for me."

Before Castle could answer, Kate strolled in wearing her dress blue's. Montgomery's face split into a wide grin and he chin nodded at the Detective. "And promotion day for her."

Castle glanced from one to the other, bewildered, and his face must have betrayed him, because Kate suddenly looked concerned. He waved his hand, chuckling. "Of course I remember. How could I forget? Not gonna forget something as momentous as _that_…as _this…_right?" He nervously tugged at his earlobe "So, _when's_ the ceremony again?" He took a guess that there actually _was_ a ceremony; they wouldn't be wearing their dress uniforms if there weren't some sort of pomp and circumstance going on today.

"Castle," Kate chided, reaching out to straighten his tie, "I told you last night and then again this morning. I don't know why you won't use your iCalendar."

He shrugged, looking convincingly sheepish in spite of his utter confusion, and replied, "Why would I use my calendar?" He watched her as she absently scratched her chin, and immediately noticed the thin silver wedding band around her left ring finger. Startled, he quickly glanced at his own hand.

He was wearing a matching band.

His face split into a wide grin, and he amended his statement by adding, "When I have _you_ to keep track for me?"

She clucked at him and rolled her eyes. "I've told you a million times, Castle. I'm _not_ your secretary."

"Good _mornin'_ Captain Beckett!" Esposito crowed as he strolled into the break room. He eyed her dress uniform and whistled, and then tugged at the sleeves of his own. "Lookin' good." Ryan and Lanie were three steps behind and they both smiled at Kate, Lanie offering her a quick hug.

Kate smiled and held up one finger. "I'm not Captain, _yet_," she corrected.

Ryan checked his watch, "Well you will be in two hours and twelve minutes."

Castle glanced at the wall clock above the refrigerator and did the math in his head. That meant the ceremony would be held at eleven o'clock. Which meant he wouldn't be able to talk to Kate about his current reality-hopping predicament until later that afternoon. And, that was _if_ he didn't shift into another parallel universe again.

Espo shook his head. "It's gonna be awfully strange having you as Captain, Beckett."

"Yeah, and after today, you get to call me _Sir." _Kate teased.

"Ooh," Ryan flinched, rubbing his chin. "That's gonna be _really_ weird."

"You'll get used to it," Castle interjected. Ignoring the curious glances of the three men, he leaned close to Kate. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yeah," she replied, nodding apologetically to the others as he grabbed her by the elbow and towed her out of the room. He hurried them down the corridor, not stopping to explain until they were well out of earshot of the others. But, before he could say _anything_, Kate had opened the door to a supply closet and, smiling crookedly, had pulled him into it. "Good idea, Castle," she whispered, pinning him against the door as soon as they were inside. "After I'm Captain, we won't be able to do this anymore."

Only the ambient light from the crack beneath the door filtered into the dark room and, blinking, he tried to adjust to their dim surroundings even as Kate was shimmying against him. He hadn't exactly expected these turn of events, so when she slid her hands beneath his suit jacket and wrapped her arms around his middle, pressing her lips to his neck, he flinched. "Whoa, Beckett. Heh heh. Slow down."

But his insides were flip-flopping and he could already feel himself melting against her, returning her kisses, coiling his arms around her, all thought of parallel worlds banished to the forgotten corners of his consciousness.

She smelled familiar, felt familiar, _tasted_ familiar, her hushed moans were the same, the soft giggles that bubbled from her throat as she rocked her hips against him, gasping as she felt him - er - _respond_, were the same. Yet, he couldn't help feeling guilty about this. As though he were somehow cheating on her.

Which, technically, he _was_, right? Because this wasn't _his_ Beckett?

But, he was clearly _her_ Castle, wasn't he? He was wearing a wedding band that didn't even _exist_ anymore in his world, since the original wedding bands they were going to use had been lost in the accident. And he was wearing clothing that _this_ Beckett had undoubtedly had a hand in him adorning this morning, since his tie so cleverly matched her dress uniform. So, this little rendezvous in the closet, _should_ be okay.

Shouldn't it?

He wasn't sure.

He just knew he didn't want to stop. She felt _so_ good against him and his breath stalled in his chest as her lithe body wiggled against him, her lips, explored the column of his throat, her fiendishly _naughty_ hands. He was _spellbound_.

_Oooh, _he thought. _Spellbound!_ _That's it. I'm under a spell, someone has cast a wicked, wicked spell on me and cursed me!_ He pulled away - as difficult as that was to do – and, thunderstruck by his theory, urgently placed his hands on her shoulders, holding her in front of him like a shield. "Kate, I have to tell you..."

But, before he could finish his sentence, a hot white light seared through his skull and he clutched at either side of his head in acute pain, a wave of nausea crashing over him. When finally it passed, he opened his eyes.

And saw that he was alone in the closet and, instead of holding Kate, he was clutching a damp mop.

"What the-?"

A twenty-five watt light bulb shone above him, and he knew, without looking, that he'd changed clothes again. He glanced down at the faded jeans, grey t-shirt and green flannel shirt, unbuttoned and un-tucked, that he was wearing. His left hand flew to his face and he examined his ring finger.

Nothing.

"What am I _doing_ in here?" he mumbled to himself.

"That's what I was about to ask," came a voice behind him. "What's taking you so long?"

Castle spun around and found himself face to face with Detective Ryan. "I, ah. I…" he stuttered, and then remembering the foul smelling mop he was clutching, held it up in front of him. "...was getting the mop?"

Ryan looked puzzled, and then took the mop from Castle. "Ah, yes, you were, to clean up your mess in the break room." The fair detective shook his head before spinning on his heel to hurry back down the corridor. Castle followed him and immediately noticed that _this_ 12th precinct looked very different from _his_.

To begin with, the desks were arranged differently. They were face to face in two long rows that stretched from end to end down the middle of the room. He searched for Beckett's telltale row of elephants, but couldn't find them. He looked for his well-worn side chair, but that was missing, too. Then he glanced in the Captain's office, only to see Gates hunched over her desk, reading a report. When they arrived at the break room, which thankfully looked familiar, he folded his arms across his chest and asked. "Where's Beckett?"

Ryan, and the other officers in the room immediately looked up at him, their faces aghast. "What did you say?" Ryan asked.

"Beckett," Castle started again, realizing something was very wrong. "Where is she?"

"That's not funny, bro." Ryan admonished. The other officers were shaking their heads, too, mournful expressions ghosting their eyes.

"What'd I do?" Castle asked, frowning at Ryan and then following where the detectives gaze had landed.

He gasped, his stomach churning as though he'd just been sucker punched.

He slowly walked into the hallway, towards the row of framed photographs, and stopped in front of one, his mouth hanging open, his heart thundering in his chest.

Hanging amidst the Wall of Heroes, the Twelfth's memorial to fallen officers, was a portrait of Kate wearing her dress blue's. Her hair was fashioned into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, her hat perched precisely on her head, only the hint of a smile gracing her lips. He squinted at the gold plate at the bottom of the painting. _Detective Katherine Beckett, NYPD, 12__th__ Precinct, Homicide Division. _

He knew what it was going to say, but it didn't stop his eyes from glassing over when he finally read the words that, based solely by the wrinkled clothes he was wearing, the paunch in his gut, the slightly hung-over feeling that had been plaguing ever since he'd jumped into this reality, had clearly changed his life forever.

_Killed in the line of duty, May 16, 2011._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Before you send me hate mail, please remember that I did warn in my summary that there could be character deaths. Also please remember that while I am a sucker for angst, I always love a happy ending. Trust me. :-)_


	3. Chapter 3

**Parallels  
><strong>By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Three: Alleys of Chaos and Red-headed Tornadoes.**

**I**t was entirely possible that he would pass out cold - right there on the grimy over-waxed hallway floor at the twelfth - collapse into a grieving heap of flesh that sobbed and wailed beneath the timeless photograph of Kate that had been hung to memorialize her, remember her life as a cop, as a detective - honoring a death that had come at the hands of the _most_ dishonorable.

Castle choked back a sob and steadied himself by leaning one hand against the wall in front of him, his curled fist pressed against the brick that framed Kate's picture, but he couldn't stop the tears from rimming his eyes, obscuring his vision. Even though this wasn't _his_ reality, he couldn't fathom _any_ reality where Kate wasn't in it. It was just inconceivable and utterly..._wrong_. He stared at her picture for what felt like an eternity, but was in all likelihood only a few minutes, until he could feel a presence behind him and he angrily wiped at an errant tear that had spilled from one red-rimmed eye.

"It still feels shocking to me too, bro," Ryan muttered, placing a gentle hand on Castle's shoulder. "To all of us."

Castle nodded, but didn't turn away from the photograph, needing the extra seconds to collect himself.

"I just wish Gates would let us investigate, you know?" Ryan commented, moving to stand beside Castle. He shoved his hands in his front pockets. "That her killer has gone free this whole time..." he shook his head with disgust. "...makes me nauseous."

"_What_?" Castle spat, incredulous. He could feel his heart slam against his ribcage, could feel the heat in his cheeks, realized that his fingers were balled up into fists, leaving half-moon indents in the palms of his hands. "You haven't _caught_ him?"

"_Dude_," Ryan exclaimed, turning to stare at Castle. "What is _wrong_ with you today? You _know_ we haven't caught him." He gestured towards the bullpen, "It's why you come here all the time. Even though Gates kicked you to the curb, you still show up here, hoping for some clue, some lead that will break the case." He shrugged his shoulders. "But, without more resources, without an official investigation, we've got nothing."

It took every ounce of strength to not lash out, to not storm into Gates' office and pitch a bona fide man-sized hissy fit. Instead, he bit his lower lip and closed his eyes, waiting for the rage to simmer. When it finally eased, he squared himself in front of Ryan. "Remind me, Kevin, _why_ did Gates close the case again?"

Ryan frowned, studying Castle for signs of illness or injury, or perhaps an acute onset of amnesia. "No leads for months? Remember? She finally kicked it over to the cold case squad." Ryan shrugged, his face betraying his disappointment. "And, they haven't managed to dig up anything new since getting the case," he explained. "In fact, if you ask me…" he glanced around nervously and then lowered his voice. "…I'd say they're _deliberately_ dragging their heels," he shook his head. "It's like they don't even _want_ to solve the case."

Castle arched an eyebrow. "Like they're being paid off?"

Ryan tugged nervously at his earlobe and Castle could tell the Detective didn't want to come right out and accuse a fellow officer of taking bribes. But _because_ Ryan was so uncomfortable, Castle knew he'd hit the nail on the head. "It's okay, Kevin, you don't have to answer that," Castle reassured. "I think I know the answer, anyway."

His mind was spinning and he had to get out of there. But first, he needed to find a way to tell Ryan about Bracken. He snapped his fingers as an inspiration hit him. "What happened to Beckett's elephants?"

Ryan frowned. "What?"

"The elephants," he repeated, gesturing with his hands as though he were holding them. "The elephants. You know…" he rolled his eyes at Ryan's confused glare. "…that annoying parade of elephants she always had on her desk? Where are they?"

Castle could see the light come on. "Ohhhhh," Ryan replied, rocking on his heels. He shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I assume her dad took them. He took possession of all of her personal affects, after, you know, after the shooting." His face darkened with grief.

Castle slapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks, Kevin. I have to go."

"Wait, what?"

"I have to go. But, I'll be back." At least he hoped he'd be back. "Or, I'll call you." He held up a finger to accentuate his point. He lowered his voice. "I know who was behind Kate's death, Ryan. It's the same person who killed her mother, who killed Montgomery."

"What are you talking about? How? What? Castle, what in the hell is going _on_?" Ryan was growing annoyed, and Castle knew he was skating on thin ice.

"Just..." Castle clapped his hands together, steepling his fingers as he pressed them against his lips. "...trust me, 'kay?"

Ryan shook his head, "I dunno bro, you're acting really strange."

Castle held up a reassuring palm. "I know, and there's a reason for that. I'll tell you everything, I swear. I just need to find those elephants first, okay? They're the key."

Ryan raised one hand, his face nothing but one big question mark. "How are _they_ the key?"

Castle was already backing away down the hall towards the exit. "I'll be back," he said. "I promise. Ooh," Castle snapped his finger. "Do I still live in the same place?"

"What?"

He shook his head and grinned. "Never mind, I'll see you later."

Ryan just stood there, his hand in mid-air, shaking his head as he watched Castle disappear down the corridor. "Not if you don't wind up in the looney bin first," he muttered to no one in particular.

* * *

><p><strong>C<strong>astle was surprised to find that his loft looked eerily familiar. The same art hung on the walls, the same furniture, even the scent that lingered in the air was _his_. As he entered his office, however, the similarities ended there. Instead of an organized well-decorated writing space adorned with framed art and bookcases, the place was an alley of chaos. A makeshift murder board occupied most of the wall behind his desk, stretching from one end of the room to the other, and from floor to ceiling. Photographs of Kate, her mother, and the other victims of Bracken's murderous past were sprinkled across the wall. Crime reports that he'd undoubtedly illegally copied from the precinct and scraps of paper with half-conceived theories adorned the remaining space. Balled up pieces of paper, crumpled no doubt during fits of despair or frustration, were littered all over the floor, most of which were overflowing from the waste paper basket beside his desk.

"How have I been working on this for three years, and not figured it out by now?" he muttered, shuffling into the office, kicking wads of paper out of his way.

"_That_, my dear boy, is a question I have been asking myself for some time now."

Castle spun around and found himself face-to-face with the multi-colored neon blur that was his mother.

She pointed at his face with her index finger, a frown turning her mouth. "What's wrong, dear?"

"Mother," he breathed, recovering. "Nothing's wrong," he shifted his weight from one foot to the other in a pathetic attempt at nonchalance. "Why?"

"Because..." She continued to point. "Your face is doing..." her frown grew deeper, "..._that_."

He leaned in and kissed his mother on the cheek, trying not to sputter at her choice of perfume, and then wound his way to his desk chair and pulled it out, pausing before he sat. "Well, I'm fine. I'm just," he sat down. "...busy. You know," he held his hands wide apart, gesturing at the mounds of unorganized paper that uncharacteristically littered his desk. "...with all of _this_."

"Yes, yes, dear," Martha replied. "You're always busy with _that,"_ she remarked disapprovingly. "It's why you haven't published a book in over a year."

"I haven't?"

She stared at him. "No. You _haven't_."

Castle glanced at the bookshelf that housed all of his published works. He noted that the Nikki Heat books stopped after _Heat_ _Rises_, and two books he'd never even conceived of, took the place of _Deadly Heat _and _Frozen_ _Heat_. The first was entitled _Memento Mori,_ the next _Vincit Omnia Veritas_. Castle didn't need to open the books to know they were both about Kate's death.

He couldn't bring himself to open either one and the lump that formed in his throat prevented him from even speaking. He simply closed his eyes, willing away the unwanted tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks, and cleared his throat. Blinking when he felt his mother's hand cover the balled up fist of his right hand.

"Darling," she whispered, her tone soothing, sympathetic.

He shook his head and looked up at her through glassy eyes. "I'm fine. Do we-? Do I still talk to Jim Beckett?"

"Kate's father?"

Castle nodded.

"Richard, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, mother," he barked, then softening as he watched her wince, regretting his harsh tone. "I'm fine."

"Darling, Jim Beckett moved upstate a few months after Kate died. Remember?" She hiked one hip onto his desk and stared out the window before glancing back at her clearly still-mourning son. "He said there were too many bad memories in the city? So, he packed up his apartment, sold his practice, and..." She waved her hand in the air. "...left."

Castle frowned, biting his thumbnail. "Do we have his number?"

"Do we have..?" Martha stood up, her eyes troubled as she searched his face. "...now you're really scaring me, Richard. Did you hit your head? Do you have amnesia?" She hurried around the desk and placed the back of her hand on his forehead. "Are you running a fever? What is going on?"

"I'm fine, mother, I promise. It's just, I can't really tell you what's happening." He bit his bottom lip. "Not yet. Not until I find Beckett's elephants."

"Beckett's elephants?"

"Yeah,"

Martha picked up a mound of loose paper and pointed at the row of small ceramic elephants that sat on Castle's desk. "You mean _those_ elephants?"

Castle leapt from his seat, his face a jubilant mask of excitement. "Yes!"

He grabbed the elephants, raised them above his head and, as his mother gasped with horror, he smashed them against the desk, pieces of ceramic glass skittering violently across its surface.

"Richard! What on earth-?" But her words stopped mid-sentence as she stared at the small cassette tape that had fallen out of the statue. Castle picked it up and held it between them. "This will prove that Bracken killed Johanna Beckett," he whispered, his voice broken as he added, "...and _Kate_."

"Richard!" Martha breathed. "How on earth did you know that would be in there?" She paused, her eyes landing on her son's victoriously blazing baby-blue's "And Bracken? Do you mean _Bill_ Bracken?"

Castle nodded. "Senator Bracken is finally going to be brought to justice," Castle hissed, tucking the tape into a white envelope and sealing it. "I'm going to make _sure_ of it."

"Darling, William Bracken isn't a _senator_," Martha corrected.

"He isn't?" Castle asked, confused.

"No." She reached for the newspaper that had been tossed on Castle's desk, and showed him the day's headline, a large picture of Bracken shaking hands with the Prime Minister of Australia. "He's the President of the United States."

Castle was struck dumb, every bone in his body feeling heavy as cement, and a chill rolled through him. All he could do was stare slack-jawed at the headline. _"President Bracken welcomes Australian Prime Minister, Tony Abbot, to the White House." _

"Shut the front _door_!" he hissed.

Martha slammed the newspaper down and placed one bangle-bracelet-covered hand on her hip. "Alright, Richard. That is _enough_. You tell me what in the hell is going on here, and you tell me _right now_," she snapped.

Castle's head snapped up, startled by her ferocity and he held up a staying palm. "Okay, okay, mother. But, you're not going to believe it."

"Try me," she barked.

"Okay, this morning, when I woke up, I woke up in what can only be described as another _reality_, another dimension." He held up the other palm as he saw she was about to protest. "I know it sounds crazy, unbelievable even, but I promise you, I am not _your_ Richard. I mean," he briefly closed his eyes as he gestured manically. "I am, obviously, I am Richard Castle. But, I don't belong in _this_ reality."

"Honestly, Richard." Martha spat. "I don't have a _clue_ as to what you are talking about."

"It doesn't matter," he replied, his mind spinning with how to explain this to her. "It's like I am shifting, from one reality to the next. One minute I wake up and Kate isn't living here, the next, we're married and she's about to become Captain, and then this, where she's," he paused, choking out the word. "...dead." He frowned.

"Darling, you're talking _nonsense_," she accused, looking genuinely concerned for his mental health.

"No, no. Mother, in _my_ reality, Kate didn't die at Montgomery's funeral. She lived, and we eventually discovered that Senator..." he blinked. "..._President_," he corrected himself, "...Bracken was responsible for her mother's murder. Mother, he went to _prison_." He held up the envelope. "It's how I knew this tape was in the elephants. I..." Suddenly, a searing pain tore through his head and his hands flew to either side of his face. "No!" he shouted, startling his mother, causing her to take a step back. "No, not again!" The pain was almost unbearable, and he knew it would be over soon, that he'd be in another reality and he had to act quickly. "Mother," he shouted, barely able to see her through the fog that covered his vision. He shoved the envelope into her hand. "No matter what happens, no matter what I might say in a few minutes, make sure you get that tape to Detective Ryan."

"Richard," she cried, stepping closer. "Darling..."

His vision was gone, replaced by a blinding white light, and the now-familiar nausea was creeping in. He only had a few seconds. "No time! Promise me!"

She clutched at his elbow.

"Mother, _promise_ me!"

"I promise, darling, I promise..."

The room was suddenly quiet, and dark, only the mid-afternoon sun, hidden by the high rise next door illuminating the space. Castle straightened up, letting his hands fall to his sides as he realized he'd successfully made another jump. The searing pain gone for now. He looked around the room, spinning to see if the murder board was behind him.

It was gone.

The room was spotless.

He checked his bookcase. All of the Nikki Heat books were accounted for and he let out his breath, only _just_ becoming aware that he'd been holding it. "Thank God," he muttered, leaning against the desk and rubbing his eyes.

"Thank God for _what_?"

That voice._ No, no, no, no, no._ _It can't be, it can't be..._

"What are you doing home, _Kitten_?" Meredith sing-songed as she strolled confidently into the room, flipping her hair back. "I thought you'd be following around that lady-detective again today?"

He spun around and found himself toe-to-toe with the screeching red-headed tornado that was his cheating ex-wife, Meredith.

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, _he thought, the words a cacophony in his brain.

As his gaze shifted in dismay from her left hand to his, he judged by the matching wedding bands they both wore that she wasn't so much his _ex-wife_ as she was...

...his _wife._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Thank you so much to all of you who read the last chapter. I truly appreciate all of your lovely reviews! I apologize for taking so long to get this one published. The holidays ended up side-tracking me much more than I would have liked. I hope each and every one of you had a wonderful holiday season, and I wish you a blessed new year!_


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